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Lore
I’m stilla ball of nerves as we pull up to Harlow’s, technically my, property. I know what’s waiting for me, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. I think I’m still half afraid everything will point to him choosing to do this to himself.
We filled Egan in on all our suspicions regarding Harlow last night, after they both gracefully ignored that I was feeling all squishy and sweet.
I watch as he circles the area before landing next to where we parked in front of the house. With one destination in mind, we head to the gardens.
The sight of Harlow’s raised fists and fierce snarl greets me over the hedges. I’m on autopilot as my feet carry me to the clearing he’s frozen in.
Egan and Modeus give me space as I circle his figure. I make two laps around him, looking for anything out of place and pretending he’s not the man who raised me frozen in stone. I glance at Modeus once, but his face is a mask. I know I’m not doing a very good job of keeping my emotions under control. “Sorry,” I mumble.
He’s next to me in a flash, splaying his hand on my hip as he wraps his arms around me. “Don’t be sorry. I wish I could make it better,” he whispers against the top of my head.
Egan moves closer as well, working in the opposite direction I started with, as he examines the statue as thoroughly as I am. When he stops and points, I take notice of the tip of his finger. He’s pointing at a long, thin scar running up the side of Harlow’s thigh, which is almost concealed by the sinewy muscle in his leg. I’m not even sure I would have noticed it on my own.
“I don’t know,” I answer, touching the same line. “Do you know anything about this?” I ask Modeus.
“No, though I didn’t see him naked often.”
“Often?” I question.
“Or ever.” He changes his statement with a shrug of indifference.
“I don’t remember it, but it is well concealed.”
“It runs right along the femoral artery.” Modeus eyes Harlow’s leg.
“That’s a big injury. I think I would have known about something like that. Do you think this could have happened recently?” I ask them both.
Modeus continues to consider the scar. “If he were in this form, it wouldn’t have happened unless it was a blessed blade.”
“Maybe he was blindsided by someone he trusted.” A certain vampire comes to mind.
“Sure, but then what? As soon as he shifted, it would have stopped the bleeding. This would barely slow him down.” Modeus waves his hand toward the scar I’m not positive isn’t an old injury.
Egan circles Harlow again. I watch him expectantly. After two more passes, he moves farther back and inspects the ground around him. I focus my sight a little higher on the hedges around us, noting this is one of the few large clearings in the garden. I’m trying to recall if this place held any significance for him, but nothing about this property seemed important to him.
I’m so lost in my thoughts, I don’t even realize Modeus is searching the area as well until he hollers, “Look at this!” I blink to clear my foggy thoughts and spin to find him kneeling next to a rock garden filled with simple white river rocks. Under one of the hedges, I can just make out a large onyx stone.
“What the fuck is that doing there?” I question, jogging over. Egan puts himself directly in my path, stopping me when I might have bent down and scooped it up. I lift my hands to shove his chest, but as I look up, I note his dark eyes glaring down at me.
He lifts his brows. It’s almost like I hear the wordwait,but it’s only in my head. Once he realizes I’m not going to rush into picking the damned thing up, he steps out of the way so I can see Modeus, sans shirt, plucking the stone up with his fabric-covered hand.
He immediately presents it to me, cradled in the shirt so the stone doesn’t touch his skin. It’s a smart move. Clearly, this rock doesn’t belong here, which means someone had to bring it here, and we have no idea what the intention is.
“Is it obsidian?” Modeus twists the crystal, and it catches the late afternoon light.
“Onyx,” I inform him. “Obsidian is essentially glass. This is a crystal.” I examine the stone closely without touching it.
“What do you think it’s doing here?” Modeus asks while he shifts his palm so I can see the onyx from every angle.
“I have no fucking clue. This is a ritual stone.”
“Witches use crystals.” Modeus extends his hand toward Egan to allow him to get a better look as he moves closer. I start searching the ground again, pushing the manicured grass around with the toe of my boot, but there are no other stones that don’t belong.
I eye the placement of where it was found in relation to Harlow’s figure. “Do you think this could have been used as part of a circle? A snare to trap him?”
